


Afterimage

by Ratclowns



Category: DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics)
Genre: Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Crying, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Drunk Sex, F/F, F/M, Hardcore, Multi, Sex Toys, Slade loves his Girls, Strapping, at the end, it's actually kind of fluffy, strapless strap-on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 12:57:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19173745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ratclowns/pseuds/Ratclowns
Summary: Rose and Tara use Slade's connections to buy themselves a wild night. Slade, a father, arrives not angry, just disappointed.Just pretend bodies work like this and double vaginal can work no lube and cervix penetration feels amazing and these three can have a fluffy happy ending, okay?





	Afterimage

What Rose hates, really really hates about Tara, is how smug she can be when she knows she’s won.

They spar and Tara cheats and pins Rose to the ground with a forearm pressed against her windpipe and Tara looks _elated_. They fall into bed and Tara, with three fingers crooked hard inside Rose, hears her cry and feels when she comes wet and unyielding against her face, and with Rose’s cum dripping down her chin Tara _smiles._

She’s always so goddamn smug and Rose hates it.

They’re at a bar in the nicer part of Gotham, a hotel and lounge that Rose knows her father has used as a meeting place before. It’s more than glamorous, the attendants serving Rose and Tara every time they ring a bell at their secluded booth in the back. Red velvet upholstery clashes with the pale of both the girls, too bright for the dimmed lights of the bar.

“I just don’t fucking get the taboo of it,” Tara says, finishing her fourth, maybe fifth glass of champagne. Rose is still on her third. “Y’know, like, we used to execute people in public, right? But I can’t have my tits out on the beach? It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“No one’s stopping you from just whippin’ ‘em out.” Rose says. “I think the problem is, people see you shirtless and wonder who’s starving this poor victorian orphan boy.”

Tara snorts. “You’re one to talk!”

“Oh, I’ll talk,” Rose tries, but Tara speaks louder.

“You’re one to talk! Come on, how did you end up with your dad’s tits? You inherited your tits from your _father!”_

Rose downs her champagne and rings the service bell for more. “That’s a compliment! Slade’s got a bigger chest than you, holy shit!”

“Oh my god, Rose, I swear,” Tara laughs. “I swear. If you ever buy him lingerie I will be there, and I will give you a million dollars. I will die and give you all my money if you got him into a bra. I swear.”

“Yeah? You swear?” Rose laughs. It’s nice, when they’re both drunk and happy, and there isn’t anything to really fight over. It doesn’t last long but Rose enjoys it. Neither would ever admit that they’re the other’s only female friend.

“I swear. I swear, are you? Hey, waiter?” Tara says when the waiter comes back with another bottle of Armand de Brignac. “You are putting this aaaaaall on the Wilson tab, uh correct?”

“Yes, ma’am. You’re being cared for under Mr. Wilson’s membership.” He says.

“Well then, Rose, _Rosie_ , Rosie Posie,” Tara sidles close to her, one hand slipping down the front of her dress. Already, Rose feels hot. “What’d’ya say we take this to the fuckin’ penthouse?” Rose knows, without looking, Tara’s wearing that smug grin.

~

It’s not really a penthouse.

It’s a private suite on the top floor of the bar, the high rise giving views all the way to Gotham harbor. Rose and Tara spill through the door with the champagne in hand, Rose drinking straight from the bottle and feeling, in the numb, drunken way, most of it spill down her chin.

“You, you got a little,” Tara laughs, licking a stripe up Rose’s neck, following the trails of the liquor until she reaches Rose’s mouth. The two kiss, not the first in the night but the most passionate thus far, each falling into the other.

Rose falls into the sofa and Tara falls after her.

Tara’s hands, rough, cradle Rose’s face and caress down her body. Rose doesn’t feel them so much as she feels their absence when Tara moves away. Rose should feel scared, drunk and helpless to do anything but writhe where the afterimage of Tara’s hands cup her. Instead, it thrills her.

The sound of ripping fabric cuts through the air. Rose feels a distant anger, mumbles halfhearted, “That was Balmain,” before Tara kisses the thought away.

“I know what’ll make you forgive me.” Tara says, and the grin is back. Rose hates it, and then Tara’s tongue is lapping at her pussy, tasting her, moaning against her clit and Rose hates it, loves it, loves it.

“Can’t believe you didn’t even wear panties,” Tara whispers.

“I couldn’t, I gave ‘em all to my dad to wear for you,” Rose gasps when Tara pushes two fingers into her.

“God, you’re wet,” She says. “Can’t wait to get my cock in you?”

Normally, sober, Rose would say something witty and bite and tease but Tara’s fingers keep circling that spot inside her and she can’t wait, not really. Instead, she moans raggedly and Tara takes it as a victory. She grins again, and Rose loves it.

Tara undresses before fumbling with her purse and taking out her favorite toy, polished rose quartz in an elegant curve, a small knob at one end to push inside herself while the other end swells into a simple impression of a cock, albeit impressive sized. She drags the tip, cold and unyielding, against Rose’s cunt, delighting at her moan. Tara presses it inside herself.

When Tara unwrapped it, Rose had called it a strapless strap-on. It was half a joke, a carved sex toy from the element that Tara could feel in her bones and manipulate with ease, but it quickly became anything but. Neither would admit how much they enjoyed using it.

“You ready, baby?” Tara asks, bracketing Rose’s body on the sofa with her own. It’s a pose they end up in often, sparring or fucking. Tara aligns herself with Rose’s body, feels the sensations through the rock as if it were a real cock, the warmth of Rose’s body radiating through her, the sensations foreign and exciting every time she felt them.

“Please,” Rose whispers, “C’mon. Fuck me open.”

The smile again. Rose loves it.

Tara spreads her open and presses inside with a hiss. “So fuckin’ tight, baby,” she growls. Rose’s walls pressed so tightly against her, Tara can’t help but jerk her hips forward, hard. The slap rings through the suite and Rose yells.

“Oh, _fuck!_ ”

“God, yes,” Tara says, holding Rose’s hips to drag her onto every thrust. “Missed being inside you. Tryin’ to drag me deeper.”

“Don’t stop,” Rose pants. The toy isn’t like being fucked with a real cock, it’s solid, unyielding, pressing Rose’s stomach outward whenever Tara changes the angle. It’s longer, more curved, dragging over just the right spot to make Rose see stars.

“Couldn’t make me stop if you tried,” Tara laughs, biting Rose’s bottom lip where it’s parted open, hard enough to bleed. Rose loves the taste.

“Please, Tare, Tarr-AH! Fuck, _please_ , I’m gonna come,” Rose all but breathes against her.

“Go ahead baby, come around my cock for me, nice and pretty.” Tara bites her neck and it’s over, Rose is coming in waves that string her body taught. Tara feels it all, clenching and pulling at her, trying to take as much as possible. Rose gushes, her pussy drenched and dripping onto the hotel’s sofa. Tara fucks her through it, barely stopping herself from coming too.

“You gonna keep going?” She asks. “Gonne keep coming for me like that, all fuckin’ night?”

Rose opens her mouth to answer when the door opens.

“Shit!” Tara says, pulling away and grabbing Rose’s dress to cover herself. Rose turns to the door and pales.

“Dad!”

He shuts the door behind himself. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“What’re you doing here?” Tara says, dropping the gown from her chest. Rose, vision still swimming, stays laying on the couch.

“I got a call asking if I authorized a charge for fifty thousand dollars to my fucking membership here. So, I thought I’d stop by, see what I chose to spend that much on.”

“It was champagne,” Rose laughs, buzzed, gesturing to the bottle. “And the room.”

Slade approaches them. “Rose.” That tone. That fucking tone he takes when he’s upset, so deep it’s barely more than a growl, reverberates through the girls. Tara stands and Slade pushes her back down.

“Keep going.” Slade says. “I spent fifty thousand dollars for you to fuck my daughter here, Tara. I wouldn’t want to stop before you’re finished.”

“I’m sorry,” Tara tries, but Slade grips the base of her cock in one hand and grabs her hair in the other, guiding her back inside of Rose’s still dripping cunt.

“Dad, I was the one who spent, _fuck!_ ” Rose yells when Slade drives Tara’s hips forward. Her cock spears back inside Rose in one smooth motion, bringing tears to her eyes.

“Why don’t you tell me how she feels?” Slade growls, his lips against Tara’s ear, his hand still twisted in her hair, yanking her head backward.

“Tight,” Tara grits.

“Good,” Slade says, chuckling darkly. He releases Tara completely, standing up and unthreading the belt from his waist.

“Dad,” Rose tries again, but he glares and stops her completely. He undresses in an unnervingly calm way, every bit a soldier. It makes Tara’s skin crawl.

“Keep fucking her.” Slade commands. Tara draws back and rolls her hips into Rose, gentler and easier than the first round. It draws a gasp from Rose, color rising to her face from her father seeing her like this, fucked stupid on her friend's cock.

Slade crowds behind Tara, his hand moving to where the toy presses against her slit and curves past into Rose’s cunt. He drags his fingers around the base lazily. “Rose said you could feel this like it was real. Didn’t believe it.”

“I can,” Tara says. “Feels better’n a real cock.”

“Really?” Slade says. He wraps one hand around Tara’s thigh and pulls her leg up, knocking her off balance and painfully deep into Rose. Tara can feel the head of his cock, spongy and warm, against where the toy enters her.

“You can’t,” She tries, frantic. “The toy’s already inside, it won’t fit.”

Slade laughs, rocks his hips forward where the head of his cock catches on where her cunt is stretched around the toy.

“Fuck, Slade, I’m sorry, okay? God, Christ, it won’t fucking fit, I’m sorry--”

He pushes inside.

It’s tight, the stone toy giving no resistance where Slade’s cock knocks it into her G-spot. Tara feels painfully open, awkwardly stretched around the both of them, too full and too tight, nearly crying at the sensations. When Slade pushes inside he drives Tara’s body forward, her knees buckling, the stone cock spearing open Rose’s womb.

Rose yells, her back arching. Tara’s eyes are unfocused, the head of her cock gripped like nothing else she’d ever felt but her body being moved at Slade’s pace. All she can do is pull Rose’s hair and hold on, small “Ah, ah,” noises punched out of her as Slade fucks them without mercy.

“Fuck!” Rose screams. She comes again, her cunt spasming around Tara’s cock, her womb violated but more turned on than she’d ever felt. She feels wetness spread down her thighs, seems to be coming buckets and not stopping, more pulsing out of her when Slade impacts Tara into her.

Tara drools when she comes, nearly incoherent with it. It feels dragged out of her, starting where the head of her cock is almost massaged with Rose’s orgasm, electricity down the shaft to inside her cunt where Slade fucks into her with no consideration of the toy already jammed inside. She feels herself coming around Slade’s cock, feels him pinch one of her nipples and bite the juncture of her neck and ride it out with her, never once pausing.

Tara collapses against Rose and Slade doesn’t stop.

Both girls cry, bodies crowded together, as Slade keeps fucking them. Each thrust rocks Tara deeper into Rose and punches another noise of pleasure from the two of them. Both lose track of time.

Tara’s cunt tries to milk every drop of cum from Slade when he finally fills her, wordless except for a growl. The harsher thrust jabs Tara’s cock deeper and Rose comes a final time too, weak but still enough to make Tara cry from overstimulation. She keeps coming around Slade, feels almost empty when he pulls out, his cum gushing from her abused hole.

Rose yells when Slade removes the toy from her, voice hoarse, Tara gasping when she feels the head pop free from Rose’s womb. He removes the end from Tara, licks from the end of it to the tip, and lets it drop to the ground.

Tara drops her head to Rose’s shoulder, exhausted. She feels floaty, the room spinning even with her eyes closed. On top of Rose, sweaty and gaping and tears drying on her face, Tara smiles the smile she knows drives Rose crazy.

Distantly, Tara feels a plush blanket being draped over her. Slade picks up the champagne bottle and finishes it, brushes a hair from Tara’s face.

“Y’know she said you wouldn’t mind,” Tara smiles.

“I don’t,” Slade says, and sits next to where Rose rests her head. Tara drops her ear to Rose’s chest, luxuriating in the sound of her heartbeat. Slade strokes a hand over Rose’s sleeping face, then rests his hand on the back of Tara’s neck.

“Y’know she really loves you.” Tara mumbles.

“I know.” Slade says.

“Y’know we both do.”

Slade smiles. “I know.”

Tara smiles again, smug. She drifts off to sleep on top of Rose, and thinks, through the haze of champagne and sex, she hears Slade whisper, “I do too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter @ratclowns for more slade/terra/rose content


End file.
